


relay network

by deplore



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Birthday Presents, Character Study, Clubbing, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen Work, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deplore/pseuds/deplore
Summary: Compilation of VRAINS shorts.Yusaku and Revolver have a daughter and are disgustingly in love.Yusaku and Revolver make out and are disgustingly in love.Winter comes; Yusaku's too poor to buy clothes for the weather. Revolver, disgustingly in love, fixes the problem.Even in a joke fic, Yusaku and Revolver are still disgustingly in love.Yusaku confronts Revolver about his bad coping habits.Short character studies on food and identity (Ryoken, Yusaku, Kusanagi siblings, Aoi, Go).Yusaku loves Ryoken in the club, NTR is involved. Don't receipt me.Ryoken loves Yusaku on his birthday.Ryoken and Yusaku are in love, and also are girls.(New!)Ryoken and Yusaku are in love but it's medically complicated.Summary: Playmaker drapes his arm over the shoulder of the empty robot and then falls into it, closing his eyes as their mouths meet. Ryoken’s stomach lurches unpleasantly but he can’t stop watching; there’s something so grotesquely voyeuristic about it that he still can’t internally process even after seeing this happen time and time again.





	1. in the future, they are in love

Yusaku makes an effort to come home early on Fridays to ensure that they have at least one family dinner every week. If he were being honest, he’d have to admit that he’s somewhat apathetic to enforced family time, but he knows Ryoken likes the sense of togetherness – so he puts up with the Friday afternoon traffic and always gets back in time to help their daughter Kiyoko set the table.

Putting out the silverware is the easy part. Attempting to be an engaged father after eight hours of work is decidedly not – halfway through an unusually quiet dinner, Ryoken gives Yusaku a pointed look; Yusaku clears his throat and says, “So, Kiyoko… how is school going?”

“School’s boring,” she answers, rolling a few peas around her plate. “We’re still stuck on learning JavaScript. Oh, but history was kinda cool today!”

“I see,” Yusaku replies. Normally, he’d leave it at that, but Ryoken is still giving him his _Be A More Involved Parent, Yusaku_ expression, so he weakly goes on: “What’d you learn about?”

“We finally got to modern history,” she explains cheerfully. “You two were alive when that big cyberterrorist attack happened in Link VRAINS, right? The teacher was telling us that they still don’t know who Revolver and Playmaker are to this day, or what the purpose of the attack was… I thought the lesson was pretty cool, for once.”

Yusaku gives Ryoken a faintly horrified look, and becomes all the more horrified because Ryoken is giving him the exact same expression in return. “That’s nice,” he says, and then takes a very large sip of water.

“All the boys thought Revolver is so cool,” Kiyoko continues, oblivious to her parents’ discomfort. “But if you ask me, his avatar was kinda ugly. If he knew he was going to go down in the history books, I wonder if he would’ve picked a different one?”

“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons,” Yusaku says, very quickly, so he can interject before Ryoken says anything vaguely self-loathing. “Personally, I also think his avatar was cool.”

Kiyoko laughs and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re a boy too, dad. But if you ask me, Playmaker looked waaaay cooler.”

“That’s right,” Ryoken cuts in, smiling in a way that Yusaku associates with the sensation of being incredibly hen-pecked. “I agree with you, Kiyoko, I think Playmaker is cooler.”

“Revolver has his own unique charm,” Yusaku insists.

“I’m just agreeing with our daughter,” Ryoken says, voice far more deadly serious than it has any right to be over a casual Friday night family dinner. “Is there a problem with that, _honey_.”

“I’m merely expressing my own opinion,” Yusaku retorts, “ _sweetie_.”

“Darling,” Ryoken counters.

“Dearest,” Yusaku says.

“Precious,” Ryoken replies.

With that, Yusaku is fresh out of pet names to aggressively lob back at Ryoken and is left verbally floundering. He opens his mouth, then closes it and presses his lips together as he frowns.

“Are you two having a fight or something?” Kiyoko asks.

“No,” both of them reply in unison, and then Ryoken adds, “Finish your vegetables or no dessert.”

Kiyoko points at Yusaku’s plate. “Dad hasn’t finished his vegetables either,” she says.

 _Did I just get thrown under a bus by my own child_ , Yusaku thinks to himself, but the betrayal doesn’t end there, because Ryoken replies, “Well, I guess Dad isn’t getting dessert, then.”

To add insult to injury, it’s also Yusaku’s turn to do the dishes that night. As he loads the dishwasher, he contemplates the fact that this argument somehow feels even more dire than the time they fought over whether or not to nuke the Internet entirely, and tries to convince himself it’s the hallmark of a strong relationship built up over time.

 

 

 

“So let me get this straight,” Shoichi says, after Yusaku’s called him to confide to him the situation. “You two had an argument because you both want your daughter to think that the other’s former hacker persona is cooler?”

“That’s not how I would put it, but you’re not wrong,” Yusaku replies.

“I'll tell you this bluntly, Yusaku,” Shoichi says. “I certainly _could_ give you advice, I just don’t want to. This is the most sickeningly lovey-dovey thing to argue over that I’ve ever heard of.”

“Everybody is betraying me today,” Yusaku says dully, and hangs up without another word.

 

 

 

After fruitlessly trying to distract himself reverse-engineering a bit of tricky malware he’d gotten an extract of at work earlier for a few hours, Yusaku resigns himself to the fact that they have to finish their fight sooner or later and makes his way to their bedroom. “You aren’t going to change my mind,” he announces the moment he walks in, hoping to get the first strike in.

“What a coincidence,” Ryoken says. “You aren’t going to change my mind either.”

“Well,” Yusaku replies grimly. “I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Ryoken informs him, gesturing to the spot on the floor where he’s already set out their decade-old Duel Monsters playmat and the cards that they usually keep hidden so that they won’t have to awkwardly explain to their child why they have the same decks as a pair of certain infamous hackers before the time is right.

“Speed duel or master duel format?” Yusaku asks, crossing his legs as he sits down in front of the playmat.

“Speed duel, I want to go to sleep before midnight,” Ryoken says. “You can go first.”

“Don’t regret it later,” Yusaku warns him, and draws his initial hand.

 

 

 

Two hours later, it is decidedly after midnight and Yusaku takes a moment to smile triumphantly before claiming the last of Ryoken’s life points. “I win,” he says. “Now resign yourself to the fact that I still think you’re cool.”

“Fine, but don’t encourage our daughter to look up to cyberterrorists,” Ryoken replies. “Even if the cyberterrorist is me. And for the record, I still think you’re better than me in all the ways that matter the most.”

“I haven’t believed your _I’m not a good person_ schtick for over ten years now, I’m not about to start now,” Yusaku says, leaning over the playmat to press a kiss to Ryoken’s cheek.

And thus, order in the Fujiki household is restored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because (1) I have a weakness for my ships having kids when they grow up and (2) I just really wanted to write Ryoken and Yusaku weaponizing pet names against each other.
> 
> Random notes:
> 
>   * Kiyoko is named after Ryoken's dad but in exchange, they all took the last name Fujiki. 
>   * Kiyoko can already code in 5 different programming languages but she doesn't speak a second language LOL 
>   * Yusaku is a white hat hacker for a living. Ryoken stays at home and minds the house, doing research on machine learning/artificial intelligence. He rarely emerges, like some kind of rare cryptid. 
>   * Ryoken and Kiyoko are quite close and Kiyoko tells him everything LOL. Yusaku isn't as close to her in a traditional/straightforward sense, but they have their own way of communicating with each other — they send ciphered messages back and forth for fun. (Also, Kiyoko is more like Yusaku in terms of personality/preferences LOL. If she were in trouble, she'd probably call Yusaku first; but for everyday things, Ryoken is in charge.) 
>   * ryoken: you want our daughter to be a crytographer? yusaku: there's nothing wrong with crytography... ryoken: but still... also, i just broke the cipher on this. belphegor's prime as the key, isn't that a bit... yusaku: ... kiyoko broke it faster than you did... ryoken: yusaku:
> 



	2. while making out, they are in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Ryoken likes it when Yusaku sits on his lap, because the weight of Yusaku’s body against his own is somehow reassuring, as if Yusaku is physically grounding him to reality. Like this, he can confirm with his tangible senses that it’s no mere flight of fantasy to have Yusaku so close, and that Yusaku desires the closeness between them just as much as he does – knowing that is gratifying in a different way than just the sensation of Yusaku’s legs straddled around his thighs, or the way that his skin flushes hot when they kiss; feeling wanted by the only person he’s ever wanted like this is almost dizzyingly intense. Ryoken’s mind is going a mile a minute as their lips separate, half-formed thoughts racing through about where he should put his hands, if it’d be too forward to kiss Yusaku’s neck, hoping fervently that all of this feels even half as good to Yusaku as it does to him –
>> 
>> “Has anybody ever told you that you think excessively?” Yusaku asks, breaking Ryoken’s train of thought.

Ryoken likes it when Yusaku sits on his lap, because the weight of Yusaku’s body against his own is somehow reassuring, as if Yusaku is physically grounding him to reality. Like this, he can confirm with his tangible senses that it’s no mere flight of fantasy to have Yusaku so close, and that Yusaku desires the closeness between them just as much as he does – knowing that is gratifying in a different way than just the sensation of Yusaku’s legs straddled around his thighs, or the way that his skin flushes hot when they kiss; feeling wanted by the only person he’s ever wanted like this is almost dizzyingly intense. Ryoken’s mind is going a mile a minute as their lips separate, half-formed thoughts racing through about where he should put his hands, if it’d be too forward to kiss Yusaku’s neck, hoping fervently that all of this feels even half as good to Yusaku as it does to him –

“Has anybody ever told you that you think excessively?” Yusaku asks, breaking Ryoken’s train of thought.

“No,” Ryoken answers, after a pause to consider the question.

Yusaku frowns and says, “Well, you do. And it’s kind of insulting.”

“How so?” Ryoken asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as bewildered as he feels.

“I was under the impression making out was supposed to make people too distracted to think properly,” Yusaku answers, sounding rather put out by the fact that he has even to explain this.

“Oh,” Ryoken says. A moment passes before the words finally sink in, and then he resists a fleeting urge to laugh, in case his amusement is taken the wrong way – instead, he cups Yusaku’s cheek with his dominant hand, sliding his palm along the curve of his jawline. “You just don’t realize that it’s always difficult for me to think properly around you, Yusaku.”

Yusaku makes a vague sound of contemplation, closing his eyes as he nuzzles against Ryoken’s hand, almost feline in the languid way he moves – and then he seems to accept Ryoken at his word, opening his eyes before reaching to curl his hand around the back of Ryoken’s neck as he leans in closer, just short of pressing their chests flush together. “Then maybe stop trying to think so much in the first place and just kiss me back,” he murmurs, right into Ryoken’s ear, and the words jolt down Ryoken’s spine like an electric shock.

Ryoken’s a self-controlled person by nature; he’s always disliked feeling as if he’s lost even the tiniest bit of agency over his mind and body. But when Yusaku kisses him again, shifting his weight against Ryoken’s body, all Ryoken can do is close his eyes and surrender himself to his own desire as he returns the kiss, coaxing Yusaku to part his lips so that he can lick into Yusaku’s mouth languidly – he runs his tongue against the roof of Yusaku’s mouth and is rewarded when Yusaku lets out a small but undeniable moan.

He drops his hands to Yusaku’s hips, letting Yusaku lean against him as they separate; Yusaku’s face is red and his breathing comes in a bit hard, but he looks incredibly self-satisfied – it’s a good look on him, Ryoken thinks. “Was that better?” Ryoken asks, tone just shy of teasing.

“Yeah,” Yusaku says, and the simple honesty in the way he says it is striking. “It felt good.”

“It feels good being with you,” Ryoken replies in turn, letting Yusaku’s straightforward nature lead him in turn, to give him the gentle push to admit the things he would otherwise keep to himself and later regret never saying. He’s still not quite thinking right, still caught up in the moment so thoroughly that his rational mind hasn’t caught up – but for the first time in his life, it doesn’t even occur to him to be bothered by that. “It feels… right, being with you.”

“Yeah,” Yusaku says again, and for just a heartbeat or so he smiles at Ryoken, eyes shining with something that Ryoken wants to call happiness. And Ryoken doesn’t know if he deserves it, really – but for those few moments Ryoken is happy as well.

 


	3. in the winter, they are in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > It snows overnight, but both Yusaku and Ryoken are too engrossed in their computers to take notice until the next morning – by the time that their wake-up alarms go off, there’s already an inch or so on the ground. Ryoken doesn’t fully realize until he’s started preparing breakfast in the kitchen; with Yusaku in one of the guest bathrooms cleaning up for the day, all he can do while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing is stare idly out the window.
>> 
>> “It doesn’t snow that often here,” Ryoken comments when Yusaku stumbles into the kitchen, still visibly tired. “It’s close to the ocean, after all.”
>> 
>> Yusaku sits down at the kitchen table, slumping in his seat and closing his eyes. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, clearly not listening properly – Ryoken knows at this point, though, that Yusaku’s not as much of a morning person as he is.

It snows overnight, but both Yusaku and Ryoken are too engrossed in their computers to take notice until the next morning –  by the time that their wake-up alarms go off, there’s already an inch or so on the ground. Ryoken doesn’t fully realize until he’s started preparing breakfast in the kitchen; with Yusaku in one of the guest bathrooms cleaning up for the day, all he can do while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing is stare idly out the window.

“It doesn’t snow that often here,” Ryoken comments when Yusaku stumbles into the kitchen, still visibly tired. “It’s close to the ocean, after all.”

Yusaku sits down at the kitchen table, slumping in his seat and closing his eyes. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, clearly not listening properly – Ryoken knows at this point, though, that Yusaku’s not as much of a morning person as he is.

This early morning routine has become alarmingly regular lately; Ryoken has superior computing power available for large-scale projects like cyberattacks on Sol Technologies, so Yusaku will spend a night or two working from his house every week. At first, Kusanagi would come too, but eventually seemed to begrudgingly trust Ryoken enough to let Yusaku come around on his own. It helps, Ryoken thinks, that he actually developed rather good life habits that run against the usual hacker stereotype, like eating regularly and maintaining a regular sleep schedule.

So out of a general sense of decency, and certainly not for any ulterior motives, Ryoken at least tries to send Yusaku off every morning after an overnight having eaten breakfast. It’s always something simple – Ryoken’s culinary skills don’t extend very far beyond cooking eggs – but Ryoken gets the distinct sense that it’s pulling up the average healthiness of the meals that Yusaku eats. This morning in particular, he toasts thick slices of bread and cuts up some fruit, putting out a jug of milk along with the pot of coffee. Neither of them like to talk as they eat, so breakfast is always eaten quickly before Yusaku’s sent off on his way.

Yusaku practically has the timing down to a science now that they have a routine in place: he can walk to the main road leading back to Den City in twenty minutes, fifteen if he rushes it – there’s a bus stop that runs a route downtown, not far from his school, and he can make to roll call on time as long as he keeps his pace brisk. The snow hasn’t come down thick, so travel time isn’t likely to be a huge issue, but there’s something else that catches Ryoken’s attention: “You didn’t bring a coat,” he says, after breakfast is over and Yusaku’s packing his schoolbag.

 “Yeah, I don’t have one in the first place,” Yusaku replies, without making anything of it – but having caught other glimpses of Yusaku’s lifestyle standards, Ryoken’s pretty sure it’s an unintentional admission that he doesn’t quite have the funds for it. “It’s fine, I’ve never been bothered by the cold anyway.”

Ryoken frowns slightly. “You can have one of my old coats, then,” he says, walking over to rummage through the closet by the front entrance – as he thought, he has the coat he used to wear a few years ago still waiting on a hanger, right behind his current coat of choice. Ryoken’s not one to care too much about fashion – “You’re rather aggressively minimalist, aren’t you?” Spectre had once commented to him – but the only real reason he stopped wearing the coat in the first place is he found he’d outgrown the style. The coat itself is nice and of noticeably good quality: it’s a black-colored parka, lined with fleece on the inside and a hood with faux-fur trim. But as Ryoken shed his hoodies in favor of blazers, he found the parka didn’t quite fit with his preferences anymore, and retired it in favor of a clean-cut peacoat. If anything, Ryoken thinks, the parka would probably suit Yusaku far more than it ever did him.

“It’s fine,” Yusaku insists, but not before Ryoken’s already taken the coat out.

“Just take it,” Ryoken says firmly, shoving the parka into Yusaku’s hands. “It’s not like I’m using it anymore. And it’ll be an inconvenience for both of us if you catch sick.”

Yusaku stares at Ryoken for a few seconds, and then looks down at the coat in his hands. “Okay,” he replies. “I’ll bring it back later.”

“Alright,” Ryoken says, although he’d meant for Yusaku to keep it – he figures it isn’t worth arguing over, given that he’s already won the battle by getting Yusaku to acquiesce.

The parka is a little big on Yusaku, but the oversized look is rather charming, Ryoken thinks. He tries not to dwell mentally too much on the exact details of how charming he finds it for his own sake, but his mouth doesn’t get the memo on time – “If you like, I can walk with you,” he blurts out before he’s actually thought about what he’s saying.

“You look like you can’t handle the cold well,” Yusaku replies, without hesitating in his assessment. But after a pause, he adds, “If you want to, it’s fine with me.”

“Like I said before, seeing snow here is rare,” Ryoken says, before pulling his own coat on. “I’m just taking advantage of the opportunity, that’s all.”

“Sure,” Yusaku says. After the two of them have left the house, he pulls the hood up over his head before offering his hand.

Ryoken stares hard at Yusaku’s hand for a few seconds, racing through the different potential meanings of the gesture before tentatively settling on the hypothesis that Yusaku is indicating that Ryoken should probably hold it. Steadily and slowly, he reaches out with his closest hand – and then Yusaku frowns, grabbing Ryoken’s hand. “We don’t have time for your usual mental song and dance,” Yusaku informs him, “I have to go to school.”

“Alright,” Ryoken says, trying to sound as dignified as possible as he squeezes Yusaku’s hand, rearranging this hold so that their fingers are intertwined as they walk through the snow together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the coat in question](http://lookbook.nu/look/4582241-Izzue-Hooded-Parka-Ralph-Lauren-Oxford-Shirt) :'^)


	4. even while shitposting, they are in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > The first time it happens, they’re logged into Link VRAINS; the network is still abuzz with gossip about the Tower of Hanoi. In the public areas, people casually question Revolver’s personal character in varying degrees of harshness, unaware that the same person is walking among them using a different avatar.
>> 
>> “You should just mute the public chat,” Yusaku says, after setting his conversational mode to private.
>> 
>> “I hear stuff like that often, so it doesn’t bother me anymore,” Ryoken replies.
>> 
>> “But you still take the damage,” Yusaku says.
>> 
>> Ryoken’s mouth slackens involuntarily; he stares hard at Yusaku to try and figure out whether the phrasing is meant to be some kind of off-handed joke, but Yusaku is as unflappable as always. “Well,” Ryoken says. “Yes. I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for the following request:
>
>> _datastorm where ryoken claims he's used to calling himself a bad person so it doesn't hurt him and yusaku just Looks at him and says "daga dameji wa uketemorau"_
> 
> After I saw it I was like
> 
> kit: damn that speaks RIGHT to my soul. but do i shitpost fill this or seriously fill it...hmm...  
> dark kit: why not both  
> kit: but i--  
> dark kit: **why not both**  
>  kit: yeah okay.
> 
> Anyway, this is the shitpost fill. Please skip this and go straight to the next chapter if you wanted something serious.

The first time it happens, they’re logged into Link VRAINS; the network is still abuzz with gossip about the Tower of Hanoi. In the public areas, people casually question Revolver’s personal character in varying degrees of harshness, unaware that the same person is walking among them using a different avatar.

“You should just mute the public chat,” Yusaku says, after setting his conversational mode to private.

“I hear stuff like that often, so it doesn’t bother me anymore,” Ryoken replies.

“But you still take the damage,” Yusaku says.

Ryoken’s mouth slackens involuntarily; he stares hard at Yusaku to try and figure out whether the phrasing is meant to be some kind of off-handed joke, but Yusaku is as unflappable as always. “Well,” Ryoken says. “Yes. I suppose.”

Yusaku doesn’t reply, apparently ignorant to Ryoken’s confusion. Uncertain of what just happened, Ryoken leaves things at that too.

 

 

 

The second time, Yusaku is helping out at Café Nagi while it’s parked on Stardust Road and Ryoken comes by to order lunch. “Just go sit,” Kusanagi says, gesturing to the table that they’ve set up nearby. “Yusaku will bring everything over when it’s done.”

“Alright,” Ryoken replies, and obediently sits himself down.

About five minutes later, Yusaku walks over holding a tray. “How are things?” he asks.

“I’m still working on decrypting that extract of data that you sent me yesterday,” Ryoken answers. “It’ll take a while, but I can handle it.”

Yusaku nods. “I have other things to do, so I’m going to set this down and end the conversation,” he says, before placing the tray in front of Ryoken.

Kusanagi doesn’t react to the turn of phrase and Ryoken can’t tell if it’s because he’s too far away to hear them properly or if he’s used to this. “I, uh,” he says. “Yes, quite.”

“Talk to you later, then,” Yusaku tells him, leaving Ryoken with a hot dog and more bewilderment than he knows what to do with.

 

 

 

Yusaku’s strange verbal tick doesn’t show up for several weeks and in the interim, Ryoken convinces himself that nobody is perfect and he can love a boy who has an unfortunate habit of using stock duel phrases in everyday conversation. He convinces himself so well that he even goes as far as to decide that it could be considered endearing, but for the most part he tries to deliberately forget that he ever heard Yusaku say _but you still take the damage_ in a non-duel context – as they say, ignorance is bliss.

Things go well: they make progress against Sol Technologies and in their personal relationship. Before long, they make it to second base and make out with each other in Ryoken’s bedroom; with the view of the ocean in the background, the moment is almost picture-perfect when Ryoken breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath and appreciate the fact that he has Yusaku lying on his bed.

Yusaku, though, apparently has other plans. “It’s my turn,” he says, and Ryoken’s fight or flight instinct automatically engages – but it’s too late. Yusaku places his hands on Ryoken’s shoulders and pushes him down to the bed, flipping their positions. “Reverse card, open.”

Ryoken can feel something breaking inside of him as if his sanity is something capable of physically shattering. “Yusaku,” he pleads, sounding more desperate than he wishes he did. “Yusaku, please, I can’t take this…”

“I direct attack,” Yusaku says. He then leans in to kiss Ryoken, stifling Ryoken’s scream in the process.

 

 

 

“Revolver,” Soulburner declares, holding up a fist, “you might have Playmaker’s loyalties now, but I’ll get him to turn over to my side sooner or later!”

If this were real life, then Ryoken would have a hard time stopping the corners of his mouth from twitching; thankfully, in Link VRAINS, his mask makes keeping an impassive expression almost too easy. “I invite you to try your best,” he replies. “But you’ll learn your lesson sooner or later. The only person capable of being at Playmaker’s side is me. Your tolerance… won’t be enough.”

“We’ll see about that!” Soulburner says.

Ryoken smiles grimly and doesn’t say anything else before logging out, both reassured and terrified by the fact that he’s absolutely certain nobody but him is stupidly in love enough to possibly overlook the kinds of phrases that unironically escape Fujiki Yusaku’s mouth while making out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're thinking to yourself "I regret reading this", don't worry. I also regret writing it.


	5. emotionally, they are in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > “That’s not how they work,” Yusaku says.
>> 
>> “That’s not how what work?” Ryoken asks, tone politely bewildered.
>> 
>> “Emotions,” Yusaku answers.
>> 
>> There’s a pause as Ryoken attempts to digest the situation; out of all the possible topics in the world, he didn’t expect Fujiki Yusaku to choose to lecture him on _emotions_. “I don’t follow you,” he finally replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for the following request:
>
>> _datastorm where ryoken claims he's used to calling himself a bad person so it doesn't hurt him and yusaku just Looks at him and says "daga dameji wa uketemorau"_   
> 
> 
> I don't know what it says about me as a person, but the first time I read it I was like "lol nice this kinda meme is on my level". But the more I thought about it the more I was like "yeah but this is kind of deep, in a sense" and long story short I metaphorically cried in the metaphorical Chili's that night and then wrote this. idk what that says about me as a person but this is fine

As expected, the public image of the Knights of Hanoi takes a nosedive after the Tower of Hanoi incident. The group’s always been controversial, but there were always some people who were willing to support the underdogs in a perceived attempt to stick it to a big corporation – all such fans virtually disappear after the Tower of Hanoi falls. The organization itself goes inactive too, but without any publicly announced reason as to why, rumors develop and spread quickly. Unsurprisingly, most of them are intensely unflattering to Revolver, as the former leader of the group.

Ryoken tries to remain unflappable in the face of dozens of news pundits and many more hundreds of random netizens attempting to unpuzzle the situation, and his main solace is in the fact that the reality is far more bizarre than any of the conspiracy theories they conjure up. He creates a new avatar and ignores the rumor mill as best as he can, but it’s impossible to move around Link VRAINS and not overhear the gossip of the day: _That Revolver guy, he should be put in jail for the rest of his life. Think of how many people would’ve died. I can’t believe there are really people that evil out there. What a scumbag. There’s no reason that could justify going that far, he must’ve just been one of those cold-hearted types. A psychopath or sociopath or whatever_.

He is keenly aware that all he can do is attempt to remain as distant as possible, to rise above it all, but all the words are like tiny pinpricks, each one piercing a little further into him than the last. He can almost manage impassivity when moving around by himself, but the first time that he logs into a public area with Yusaku, he becomes excruciatingly aware of every insult because he knows that Yusaku must be hearing all of it too.

Neither of them talk much as they go about their business, investigating a lead on experiments that Sol Technologies has been doing on data storms, and the stony silence remains even after they both log out and return their consciousnesses to Ryoken’s house on Stardust Road. Just as Ryoken decides to break the quiet by attempting polite small chat, though, Yusaku sighs sharply, sitting up in his chair before he says, “Doesn’t all of that bother you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryoken replies, conscious to keep his tone as steady as possible. He doesn’t even try to play facetious; it’s perfectly obvious what Yusaku means. “At this point, I’ve heard so many people insult me that it doesn’t affect me anymore.”

“That’s not how they work,” Yusaku says.

“That’s not how _what_ work?” Ryoken asks, tone politely bewildered.

“Emotions,” Yusaku answers.

There’s a pause as Ryoken attempts to digest the situation; out of all the possible topics in the world, he didn’t expect Fujiki Yusaku to choose to lecture him on _emotions_. “I don’t follow you,” he finally replies.

“Just because you experience something often doesn’t mean that how you feel towards it will be dulled over time,” Yusaku says, folding his arms. “Tell the truth. You’re disappointed in yourself for still having an emotional reaction every time you hear somebody calling you evil, aren’t you?”

Ryoken presses his lips together and furrows his eyebrows; he wants to reject Yusaku’s claim, but he isn’t sure that he can convincingly lie his way out of this one when Yusaku is staring at him dead-on and his gaze denies any mistruth. And the reality is exactly as Yusaku claims – if anything, Ryoken feels worse that he still feels bad every time it happens again, rather than the fact that it happens at all. He had expected the words to cut less as he heard them more often, but the sharpness never dulls and his heart never seems to harden, so he’s left unsatisfied with his own weakness more than anything else. Nothing has changed in the last ten years: he couldn’t endure witnessing the pain of those six children, he couldn’t endure the loneliness after his father was taken, and even now he can’t endure the weight of his own accumulated sins.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m disappointed,” he begins to insist –

“See, that right there? I think that’s your actual problem,” Yusaku cuts in. “You’re denying yourself the right to feel anything negative, like you think you don’t have the right to it. You should get rid of that bad habit.”

“I appreciate that you’re trying to help, although I suppose I’m somewhat surprised at how confident you are on your recommendation,” Ryoken tells him, hoping to deflect slightly.

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” Yusaku says, shrugging with his arms still crossed. “I was in therapy for years. If anything, I probably have a firmer grasp on these things than the average person.”

“I see,” Ryoken replies slowly. “And you feel like that mindset has worked out for you?”

To his surprise, Yusaku smiles slightly before he answers: “All my sadness and anger,” he says, “I accepted those emotions as best as I could. And I let those feelings fuel me when I felt tired or hopeless… in the end, I used them to find a path that led me back to you. So yes, I’d say it’s worked out.”

“I think that’s more a testament to your strength of will than anything else,” Ryoken says. He clasps his hands in his lap and glances down at them for a few moments before looking back up, hesitantly returning a smile. “Still, I understand that there’s value in what you’re suggesting. Though putting it into practice is a different matter altogether.”

“I know it is,” Yusaku replies, unfolding his arms and turning to face the window. “But I’ll hear you out if you want me to.”

Ryoken thinks about it, seriously considering the offer – if he were being honest with himself, then he would have to admit that there is nobody he desires absolution from more than Fujiki Yusaku, but he has a suspicion that Yusaku is willing to forgive him for much more than he’s willing to forgive himself for.

“I’d like you to hear what I have to say someday,” he finally answers. “But right now… I think I need to work things out for myself first.”

It’s hard to tell from the angles they’re at, but he thinks that Yusaku smiles. “That’s fair,” Yusaku says. “I’ll keep it an open offer, then.”

The exchange feels like a promise more than an offer, but rather than adding to the burdens he carries, Ryoken thinks it lightens his load instead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short character studies on food and identity (Ryoken, Yusaku, Kusanagi siblings, Aoi, Go).

**Kogami Ryoken**

Well, of course he eats as elegantly as one would expect, because of course one would naturally assume that beautiful people eat only beautiful things in a beautiful way. The way that he holds his fork and knife make them look like extensions of his lovely, long fingers; when he leans over his plate, his posture is almost swanlike in the way he cranes his neck slightly. He is unusually quiet as he chews and sips, careful to keep his lips primly pressed together, perfectly polite and expressionless, never showing on his face whether he feels anything towards the food he puts into his mouth – elegant and joyless – lukewarm and beautiful – fulfilling yet empty.

 

 

**Fujiki Yusaku**

Yusaku’s body is ingloriously indifferent to what he puts into it – whether he eats twice or half as much as he should, he grows steadily; nutritional intake seems to have startlingly little effect on how well Yusaku can function. Yusaku thinks it may simply be the effect of facing too much hardship at too young of an age that his body learned to treat food as efficiently as possible: energy in, energy out. And so, he tends to feel like his body is somewhat more like a mechanical vessel than a part of his physical identity, something to be fueled and maintained as needed.

That fact doesn’t bother him, though he has a feeling sometimes that it should.

 

 

**Kusanagi Shoichi & Kusanagi Jin**

When they were both children, Shoichi used to take the food that Jin didn’t like to eat off of his plate and replace it with Jin’s favorites from his own plate. Even though he shared similar tastes as his younger brother, seeing Jin’s smiling face always made it a worthwhile sacrifice.

Nowadays, Jin eats whatever is put in front of him – no more and no less – and his expression doesn’t change throughout his meals. Shoichi mostly eats leftovers from his food truck, but he doesn’t mind taking what’s been left behind. It is, he thinks, perhaps a fitting role for him to take on.

 

 

**Zaizen Aoi**

If Aoi eats alone, she exercises perfect table manners, careful to recall every little rule that she was taught when she was younger – she drags out dinner by taking her time to ensure her mannerisms are absolutely correct, or else meals would take no time at all. But when her older brother comes home for dinner, she deliberately loosens her standards: sometimes she props her elbows up, or reaches over the table to reach something she could’ve asked Akira to pass to her instead. If he notices – and he doesn’t always notice – he scolds her, and it reminds her of a time when their family was larger than the two of them.

She isn’t sure which is the performance – when she’s alone, or when she’s with Akira? Neither? Or both?

 

 

**Go Onizuka**

Whenever a new child comes to the orphanage, he always asks them the same questions: What’s your name? How old are you? What day is your birthday? Do you have any dreams? What is your favorite food to eat? The first three he memorizes to show them that somebody cares to know who they are; the last two he memorizes so that he can help them grow up as best as he can – he knows that he can’t achieve their dreams for them, but at the very least, he can comfort them when they fail and celebrate them when they succeed. It’s what his younger self would have wanted him to do, he’s sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took an extended vacation and was seeing family in China for most of that time, and I was thinking a lot about food and how it relates to individuality and expression, probably because most of my bonding time with extended family is over the dinner table, lol. Food as expression truly transcends language, which is good, because I can barely even speak English coherently haha.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusaku shrugs and Ryoken feels a tug of irritation that Yusaku doesn’t seem to understand the situation properly. “Fine, then just dancing,” Ryoken says to the stranger, detaching from Yusaku and taking two steps back until his back is close to the other man’s front. The stranger puts his hands on Ryoken’s hips and Ryoken immediately regrets that he thought this would somehow teach Yusaku a roundabout lesson through jealousy because the other man immediately pulls him in, so Ryoken’s grinding up on him with every move and it feels wrong: his hands are too long and his body too wideset, and Ryoken can’t even pretend to like it.
> 
> Still, he makes an effort to halfheartedly dance, figuring that he can go for a song to prove a point to Yusaku about the definition of _exclusively dating_ and then forget this ever happened – but then he realizes that Yusaku is watching this unfold without restraint, blatantly staring at Ryoken as he dances with the stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent such a long time insisting NTR isn't Yusaku's kink on twitter and then I destroyed myself because, idk, screw me. Pretend this is in the same as [that one series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/960729) I wrote a while back about Yusaku and Ryoken as rival DJs but they're already together. Again, idk, screw me.

“Hey, wanna dance?” a stranger asks.

Even though the question was practically screamed right into Ryoken’s ear, he still pauses to look around before confirming he’s the one it was directed at – considering that he’s been practically attached to Yusaku by the hips all night, he’d thought it was obvious enough that he was spoken for. “I’m with someone,” he replies.

Apparently undeterred, the stranger looks over at Yusaku. “Your boyfriend, huh?” he asks. “Hey, buddy, you don’t mind, do you?”

Yusaku stares hard between the other man and Ryoken before replying, “If he’s okay with it, I guess.”

“Yusaku,” Ryoken says, tone flat.

“What?” Yusaku replies, sounding genuinely perplexed. “You’re my boyfriend, not my servant. You have agency, I understand that.”

“It really wouldn’t bother you at all?” Ryoken asks. 

Yusaku shrugs and Ryoken feels a tug of irritation that Yusaku doesn’t seem to understand the situation properly. “Fine, then just dancing,” Ryoken says to the stranger, detaching from Yusaku and taking two steps back until his back is close to the other man’s front. The stranger puts his hands on Ryoken’s hips and Ryoken immediately regrets that he thought this would somehow teach Yusaku a roundabout lesson through jealousy because the other man immediately pulls him in, so Ryoken’s grinding up on him with every move and it feels wrong: his hands are too long and his body too wideset, and Ryoken can’t even pretend to like it.

Still, he makes an effort to halfheartedly dance, figuring that he can go for a song to prove a point to Yusaku about the definition of  _exclusively dating_ and then forget this ever happened – but then he realizes that Yusaku is watching this unfold without restraint, blatantly staring at Ryoken as he dances with the stranger. As the song transitions, Yusaku steps closer and places a hand on Ryoken’s shoulder briefly before reaching up to brush aside a few stray locks of hair where they’ve fallen into his face – Ryoken gets distracted by Yusaku’s gaze and stays fixed in place, letting the stranger continue grinding onto him.

“I think he’s getting off on you,” Yusaku says. “Is he?”

There’s no mistaking the feeling of the stranger’s dick pressed up against his ass; Ryoken’s almost stopped moving entirely, but the other man continues to gyrate up on him. A feeling of disgust pools in Ryoken’s stomach, but there’s something in the way that Yusaku is staring at him that sends a tingling jolt up and down his spine. “Yes,” Ryoken finally replies, tersely, and barely audible over the music thrumming through the club.

Yusaku closes his eyes for a few seconds, and Ryoken can almost imagine him making a contemplative sound too quiet to be heard before Yusaku opens them again. He reaches out, but not to push the other man away – he just cups Ryoken’s face in both his hands, as if to deny Ryoken escape from Yusaku’s gaze. He’s not sure how to read Yusaku’s expression: he doesn’t think that Yusaku is enjoying this situation, but neither does he seem to be disgusted by it. But the way that he looks at Ryoken is unusually intense, like there’s nothing else on his mind except watching Ryoken, observing every single one of Ryoken’s moves – from somebody who’s usually as aloof as Yusaku is, Ryoken thinks there’s something rather gratifying about feeling like he’s monopolizing Yusaku’s attention entirely – that Yusaku is so engrossed in watching somebody  _ use _ him –

Ryoken’s knees go weak for a moment from a mix of horror and excitement as he realizes that he’s getting  _ aroused _ from that thought. He wonders in the back of his mind how long Yusaku can watch impassively, if he’ll keep up the same detached aura of an observer even as a stranger comes from rubbing himself on Ryoken’s thighs and ass. In disjointed images, he imagines a fleeting fantasy of Yusaku telling him to start dancing again, to grind up on the other man’s cock and pleasure him, all while staring unemotionally – Ryoken’s almost tempted to give it a try, just to see how Yusaku would react, but he feels strangely shaky on his legs. He closes his eyes briefly and swallows, trying to regain his composure, but his mind keeps flashing back to Yusaku watching, staring at him being reduced to this, barely better than a sex toy for service –

And then Ryoken realizes that he’s already half-hard without even being touched, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to hold back a groan. Yusaku doesn’t miss it, though, and he raises an eyebrow before he asks, “Are you feeling it, Ryoken?”

Ryoken doesn’t reply, which is answer enough. The stranger seems to have taken notice of Yusaku’s question too, and he yells over Ryoken’s shoulder, “Then why don’t you turn around, babe – ”

“He’s good where he is,” Yusaku replies, cutting him off without even glancing in the other man’s direction, eyes still fixed on Ryoken.

Ryoken can’t tell if he’s more humiliated or intrigued at this situation, but he doesn’t pull away – so he logically knows that he must be more intrigued and is simply unwilling to admit it to himself. “Yusaku,” he finally says, but then he realizes he doesn’t know what else to continue on with.

“Ryoken,” Yusaku replies, voice steady. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do you want me to?” Ryoken asks.

Yusaku’s eyes widen for a few moments; the show of surprise is the most emotion that he’s showed this whole time. “I’m asking you,” he says.

There’s a part of him that wants to reply  _ then tell me, Yusaku, I’ll do whatever you want _ that’s only barely held back by his pride, and Ryoken can practically feel his pride fraying at the edges as it’s pulled taut. He opens his mouth and no words come out but he knows it’s just a matter of time before he admits it – before Yusaku  _ makes _ him admit it with nothing more than the weight of his gaze –

And then the stranger reaches around, grasping to cop Ryoken’s crotch a feel and Yusaku immediately reacts, wrapping his arm around Ryoken’s waist and pulling him away from the other man. “He said just dancing,” Yusaku says, practically spitting out the words before dragging Ryoken off the dancefloor and towards one of the back walls, not even waiting to hear a response from the other man first.

Yusaku pulls Ryoken in close, wrapping his arms around Ryoken’s waist and pressing a searing kiss to his lips until Ryoken pulls back. “You didn’t even get jealous until he came to grope me,” Ryoken says, tone reproachful. “What the hell, Yusaku?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Yusaku replies, and he sounds  _ flustered _ – it’s so unlike him that Ryoken pauses his irritation to let Yusaku gather his thoughts before he continues. “Of course I don’t want other people trying to get you off, but if it’s just dancing, then, you know…”

“I do not,” Ryoken informs him.

“You’re really beautiful,” Yusaku says bluntly. “It’s… gratifying to feel like other people agree.”

“Again, what the hell, Yusaku,” Ryoken says.

“I didn’t let him touch you,” Yusaku points out, frowning. “And what about  _ you _ , Ryoken, don’t think I didn’t catch onto the fact that you were getting hard from me  _ watching _ .”

“I,” Ryoken says, voice catching. He pauses and mirrors Yusaku’s frown before admitting, “It was interesting, I suppose. Did you want me to get aroused from somebody else touching me instead?”

“I don’t know why you’re so mad,” Yusaku replies. “I thought watching you was hot, you thought me watching was hot, what more is there to it?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Ryoken says, after a muted pause.

Yusaku leans in for a kiss; Ryoken allows it. “We can talk hard boundaries if you ever want to try it again,” he says. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Ryoken answers, returning a kiss.

Ryoken’s fairly certain from the way that Yusaku half-smiles that Yusaku understands that Ryoken was more indignant out of repressed shame than actual anger and is letting the misdirected emotion slide.  “I love you,” Yusaku says. “I want to be with you forever. You know that, right?”

“You remind me of it very often,” Ryoken replies. 

“You need reminding often,” Yusaku informs him.

At that, Ryoken smiles slightly. “That’s fair,” he says. He doesn’t say  _ I love you too _ , but he leans in for another kiss and knows Yusaku will understand that’s what he means.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, then… happy birthday, Fujiki Yusaku,” Ryoken says. “Thank you for being born.”
> 
> “I didn’t actually have any choice in whether I was born or not,” Yusaku replies, with confidence in that Ryoken will pick up on the faint shift in his tone to show he isn’t serious.
> 
> Ryoken smiles slightly, tilting his head for a few moments before saying, “Then, thank you for being alive for the last seventeen years."

It isn’t until Yusaku comes home to find Ryoken standing over a cake on the dining room table with the words “Happy Birthday” written on top with careful, delicate strokes that Yusaku even remembers that there’s anything particularly special about the day. “Welcome back,” Ryoken says, tone as steady and calm as he always seems – but Yusaku can read in his body language that Ryoken’s on edge, a little nervous.

There are three band-aids wrapped around Ryoken’s fingers and a bright red welt on the back of his left hand parallel to his knuckles, which Yusaku assumes is related to the freshly-baked cake on the table. And Yusaku can see frosting drying on the lapel of Ryoken’s blazer, even though his clothes are normally so immaculately clean – Yusaku opens his mouth to tell Ryoken that he would’ve been just as happy with a store-bought food, that Ryoken didn’t have to go to all that trouble just for him – but then he realizes the indescribably warm feeling radiating through him indicates otherwise. “I’m back,” Yusaku finally replies. “Did you bake this?”

“It’s nothing special, but yes,” Ryoken says.

“It’s special to me,” Yusaku tells him. “Since you made it with me in mind.”

“Well, then… happy birthday, Fujiki Yusaku,” Ryoken says. “Thank you for being born.”

“I didn’t actually have any choice in whether I was born or not,” Yusaku replies, with confidence in that Ryoken will pick up on the faint shift in his tone to show he isn’t serious.

Ryoken smiles slightly, tilting his head for a few moments before saying, “Then, thank you for being alive for the last seventeen years. My apologies for not being able to give you anything more useful, but I did get you something…”

Yusaku holds his hands out and Ryoken pulls out from his blazer’s front pocket a small box, wrapped in blue paper. Yusaku tears straight through it and opens the box to find a modest charm made of bright green jade, on a necklace long enough to hide underneath his shirt entirely. “It’s pretty,” Yusaku says, holding out the necklace and gesturing to Ryoken to help him put it on.

Ryoken smoothly loops the necklace over Yusaku’s head, slipping the pendant under the collar of his shirt. Yusaku can feel the cool jade pressing against his chest – the weight is somehow rather reassuring. “Maybe it’s just my wishful thinking, but… it is my hope that you will keep it close to your heart,” Ryoken tells him.

“I will,” Yusaku says, lifting a hand to press his fingertips to the pendant over his clothes briefly, then smiling for a few moments before continuing: “Of course I will. Are you going to cut me a slice of cake too?”

“Well, it _is_ your cake,” Ryoken replies, and obliges Yusaku’s request, cutting out two pieces for the both of them.

Yusaku takes a bite: the frosting is a little too sweet for his usual tastes, but he’s sure he’s never eaten anything as satisfying as this in his entire life.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusaku reaches out and loops her other arm around Ryoken’s waist, pulling her close and resting the side of her face on Ryoken’s chest. “No, it’s not,” she murmurs. “This is a love that I can live and die for. I’m sure of it. I’m sure of it.”
> 
> Ryoken’s arms hang by her sides loosely; she can’t find it within herself to deny Yusaku, but neither can she return the embrace.

“What a waste,” Ryoken says, sighing as she lifts Yusaku’s hair from off the back of her neck briefly, tying it into a loose ponytail. “You would look much nicer if you took better care of yourself.”

Yusaku doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading to reply, “Don’t need to.”

“But you have good looks,” Ryoken informs her, tone mildly reproachful. “You just don’t cultivate yourself.”

“Don’t want to,” Yusaku says bluntly, flipping a page.

Ryoken sighs again before undoing the ponytail. For a moment, Yusaku’s hair floats in the breeze before settling messily across her back. “And here you are, always reading by yourself on the school rooftop… you don’t have to be the most popular person in your class, but would it hurt to try making a friend or two?” she asks.

“You’re always here too,” Yusaku retorts.

“That’s different,” Ryoken says.

Yusaku scoffs before she says, “You come up here to avoid people, no need to hide it. I’m not about to spread any weird rumors about our perfect student council president. It’s normal to need a place to be alone.”

“Is that why you come up here?” Ryoken asks, after a pause.

“No,” Yusaku answers. She shuts her book, putting it down before she turns around, reaching out to cup Ryoken’s cheek in the palm of her hand. “I come up here to be with you.”

“All the more reason to stop,” Ryoken replies, tone carefully steady. “This sort of thing… is no good. You’ll grow out of it sooner or later. Maybe you’ll regret not spending your time trying to find a decent boyfriend by the time you graduate.”

“Don’t place your expectations on me,” Yusaku says, stepping closer. “I was serious when I said that I’m in love with you. I still am, and I think I always will be.”

“It’s just a phase,” Ryoken says, taking a step back.

Yusaku reaches out and loops her other arm around Ryoken’s waist, pulling her close and resting the side of her face on Ryoken’s chest. “No, it’s not,” she murmurs. “This is a love that I can live and die for. I’m sure of it. I’m sure of it.”

Ryoken’s arms hang by her sides loosely; she can’t find it within herself to deny Yusaku, but neither can she return the embrace. “You can do better for yourself,” she finally says. “You aren’t thinking rationally about your future.”

“Then let me be delusional for the rest of my life,” Yusaku replies. But then she sighs and lets go, smiling sadly for the briefest of moments before she’s back to her usual impassive expression, turning around to collect her book. “Next time, push me away if you really want me to leave you alone,” she says before she leaves.

Only once she is alone does Ryoken finally let the tension out of her body, exhaling sharply before she turns her gaze up at the sky. “Maybe I come up here to be with you too,” she murmurs, and closing her eyes as she presses her fingertips to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know that weird high school yuri trope where the "responsible" girl is convinced that lesbianism is just a phase and that you grow out of it by the time you graduate? Yeah I always thought that was kind of weird and questionable, and apparently Yusaku does too _( :,3 /


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after EP57 and the back-up stuff came out because obviously I wasn't going to pass up the chance of writing Playmaker/Playmaker hahaha but then I got fucking sad so the drabble also got fucking sad. Sorry about that.

Playmaker comes back broken again – this time he’s missing an arm entirely, with cosmetic damage to his face and several wires in his leg sticking out. Ryoken sighs, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands and stay like that until his headache passes. “Just transfer your data to one of the shells,” he says, careful to keep the irritation out of his voice. “This will take a few weeks to repair. I think that you don’t accurately value how expensive your pieces are, considering how quickly you break yourself.”

“Maybe you should purchase sturdier parts, then,” Playmaker replies, dragging a foot slightly as he crosses the lab to the android charging station slowly.

Ryoken can’t stop a harsh peal of laughter from escaping his lips. “If your body gets any heavier, the damage will become even worse, I’m sure,” he says. He watches as Playmaker continues walking without offering to help; if Playmaker were really Fujiki Yusaku instead of a particularly convincing copy, then Ryoken is sure his heart would pang with sadness at how pathetic the sight is, but he’s already been through this enough times that all he feels is a dull emptiness, like there’s a void in his heart where emotions used to make their home.

Finally, Playmaker finishes teetering over – he pauses in front of one of the inert android bodies, the first in a row of perfect copies. He stares at it for a few moments before he drapes his arm over the shoulder of the empty robot and then falls into it, closing his eyes as their mouths meet. Ryoken’s stomach lurches unpleasantly but he can’t stop watching; there’s something so grotesquely voyeuristic about it that he still can’t internally process even after seeing this happen time and time again. It makes him think about the last time that he kissed Fujiki Yusaku –

 

_The morning breeze is crisp and cool on the skin; it is the first day of the year that actually feels like autumn even though it’s already late in the season. “I told you that we should’ve closed the windows last night,” Ryoken mumbles, still half-asleep – he turns his head to the side and kisses to Yusaku’s forehead briefly._

_“Yeah,” Yusaku replies, though Ryoken can tell he isn’t really listening. He snuggles in closer, pressing the side of his cheek against Ryoken’s bare chest and breathing in deep – then exhaling slowly. “Good morning, Ryoken.”_

_Ryoken puts his arm over Yusaku, pulling up the blankets to cover him better. “I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he says._

_“Oh, please,” Yusaku says, and then scoffs, peering up at Ryoken by the corners of his eyes. His face doesn’t carry emotion well, but his eyes – Ryoken can see the mischievous glint in them. “Then keep me warm.”_

_“As tempting as that is, I know you have a conference to present at this morning, don’t you?” Ryoken replies._

_“11AM, I have time,” Yusaku says. “And the speech more or less gives itself. That’s the nice thing about Playmaker, you know – he’s self-sufficient.”_

_Ryoken considers his options and decides that this time, he can afford to give into temptation. “You’re my only weakness,” he murmurs, and then pulls himself up from the waist to lean over and press his lips to Yusaku’s mouth, a warm and familiar kiss._

 

– though he supposes there’s no point in reminiscing upon it. Ryoken can see where Playmaker’s mouth meets seamlessly with his double’s, like mirror images neatly tessellating. The two android bodies remain unmoving in the awkward embrace for five minutes – ten minutes – and just a little more before the other shell boots up, eyes opening as the other shell shuts down.

“I don’t know why that function exists,” Ryoken mutters, this time giving into his urge to rub either side of his forehead with both his hands. “I don’t know why you keep _using_ it. The wire-to-wire transfer is more efficient in terms of data download speed.”

“It takes longer to set up. Directly interfacing is generally faster overall, after taking that into consideration,” Playmaker replies, taciturn as he removes the broken shell from on top of him and gently putting it into one of the empty pods. “As for why direct interfacing exists the way it does… you’ll have to take it up with my creator.”

“I have taken it up with him repeatedly,” Ryoken says. “He doesn’t answer the question. Can you come over here now, I want to check your black box just in case anything strange happened.”

Playmaker obliges and sits himself next to Ryoken’s computer terminal. Ryoken plugs in the supplementary cables methodically from the bottom of Playmaker’s back all the way up, the ports on his body approximating a human spine. Finally, Ryoken sets up the main cable – he hesitates for a moment as Playmaker opens his mouth obligingly, without even waiting for Ryoken to ask –

Ryoken plugs the cable into Playmaker’s internal port without fumbling, but as he pulls his hand away, his fingers brush up against Playmaker’s bottom lip: the texture feels like a real human’s mouth, but the shell hasn’t been running for long enough – the skin is too cold.

The full analysis of input and output data takes about an hour to run; neither of them speak during it. Playmaker closes his eyes and goes into rest mode while Ryoken watches his monitors as the analysis crunches itself out steadily. He carefully avoids looking at Playmaker, because at moments like this it is too easy for him to convince himself for a second or two that Yusaku is just sleeping, that he’d wake up if Ryoken shook him awake –

 

_He lies there in a hospital bed with more tubes and monitors stuck into or onto his body than Ryoken is comfortable with seeing. His skin is pale, like the white walls and white floor and white, antiseptic atmosphere is sucking the color from him – he barely looks like Fujiki Yusaku anymore. He’s not dead but he’s not alive either, as far as Ryoken is concerned._

_Ryoken watches as a doctor opens one of his eyes and shines a light into it. “He’s reacting to stimuli,” the doctor says, but even after years of studying the brain and the nerves and the consciousness, Ryoken doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean._

_“Then keep him on life support,” Ryoken says, but only because he has the money for it, not because he has any hope for it._

 

– and besides, reviewing the results keeps him busy enough. The analysis runs for exactly one hour and six minutes; Ryoken can’t see any abnormalities and nor does his program.

He taps Playmaker on the wrist, and Playmaker opens his eyes right away: they’re so bright, so green.

“There are no problems,” Ryoken says. “You can unplug yourself, but don’t touch my computer. I’m going to the hospital now.”

“Alright,” Playmaker says.

How nice it is, Ryoken thinks as he leaves, that at least Playmaker is always so easily fixed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using this to collect all the short, generally plotless fics that I sometimes throw up on Twitter. Everything is unconnected (unless explicitly noted) and everything is self-indulgent!! Yeah!!!! 
> 
> Also taking some prompt requests, leave them [here](https://topologic.dreamwidth.org/490.html) if you're interested \o/


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